


Devil in Disguise

by mckvch (RaiseYourVoice)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Child Murder, Crime Scenes, Law Enforcement, M/M, Serial Killer, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-10-09 16:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17409944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaiseYourVoice/pseuds/mckvch
Summary: When he rounded the next corner, he almost collided with someone and barely managed to scramble a step back, his shoulder bumping into the wall in his attempt to not lose his balance.“Woah, you okay? You rushed around that corner as if someone was after you.”At least it wasn’t Gavin because that would have been his luck today to end up running into that asshole after this shitshow in Fowler's office just now. Instead, he was faced with a slightly wide-eyed Markus Jackson who had his hands raised slightly out of reflex.“I’m fine,” the young detective answered a little belatedly, having briefly gotten oddly distracted by the other man’s bicoloured eyes that did look quite fascinating from up close, he had to admit. Not that this was the time for things like that.“Are you sure? Not to be rude or overstep but you seem tense,” the other man pointed out while dropping his hands to his side, a careful smile making its way onto his lips.





	1. February 5, 2028

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the next "I have no idea how this is gonna go" project of mine. I do have a rough plot but I've never really tried my hand on writing some crime/thriller type of story so...let's see how this is gonna go.
> 
> Tags will be added so please pay attention to that and so far I don't intend on an upload schedule since I first need to see how writing will go with this one which means I don't know when the next chapter will be up. 
> 
> Plus, I intend to try to get away from my stupid need to keep the chapters more or less the same length so be prepared for the word counts to be all over the place from a couple of hundred words to something like this first one. Not every chapter will be very long. It's gonna be some sort of "each chapter is a snippet of a single day" if it goes according to plan :)

**February 5, 2028**

“They found another boy.”

Connor didn’t have to look up from his computer to know that Hank was _livid_. His older partner didn’t have to clarify his words, sadly, because Connor knew exactly what he meant.

Another boy. The third one already.

There was a serial killer on the loose in Detroit who seemed to have a thing for boys around the age of ten, it seemed.

The first one had been reported missing about four months ago and he had only been found a little over a month ago—discarded in the trunk of a car on a junkyard in the outer region of the city.

The second boy had also been reported missing only days after the first one had been found and they had discovered his body three weeks ago in an abandoned cement factory that was about to get demolished to build a brand new factory. The kid had been stuffed into a rusty old locker there as if he had been shoved into it by some bully at school.

Now, they had a third dead body and Connor finally glanced up after saving the current report he had been typing, looking up at his partner who was pacing in the small space of their half-cubicle workspace.

“You know, I hate you for being right about this. _This isn’t right_ ,” Hank groused and glowered at Connor who knew not to take the other’s words personally. Hank was understandably angry and aggravated. It also wasn’t like Connor was particularly proud of his assumption that the first killing had seemed like there was more to come—he had had such a weird feeling about it when they had visited the crime scene for the second time to look for any more clues they might have missed. There had been _something_ that had made Connor scarily sure of this just being the beginning.

Once was a chance. Twice was a coincidence. Three times was a pattern.

“Of course it isn’t. It never is,” Connor replied calmly and tapped out of his desktop to get back to the lock screen that was asking for his password before tugging down the sleeves of his white dress shirt and getting up from his chair. “If you want to sit this one out—”

“Like _hell_ I will do that! Fuck you for always being so fucking patronizing!”

Alright.

“Then, let’s go,” Connor said without missing a beat, easily brushing his partner’s gruff words off and slipping into his uniform jacket, tugging it snug around his shoulders and automatically reaching for his holster, fingers absently making sure his gun was there and secured. Afterwards, his fingers brushed against the badge clipped to his belt and then he shoved his phone into his pocket, all ready to head out.

“Where are we headed?” Connor asked while he was walking towards the exit of the DPD, his steps measured and swift without seeming hurried. He knew Hank was right on his heels even without turning around.

“Ecorse Creek near Lincoln Park, off Austin Avenue,” Hank replied, not wasting time with more words than strictly necessary.

Connor merely nodded and pushed through the big glass doors of the entrance, heading down the stairs and to the parking lot. Despite Hank’s emotional state, he knew there was no way he could argue the older man out of driving so Connor went straight for the passenger side of his partner’s beat up car since he didn’t like losing time on senseless discussions that cost them valuable seconds to investigate such a terrible homicide.

“Tell me about the victim,” Connor said after they had left the parking lot and his gaze lazily flickered out the window, briefly following the buildings flying by and the people walking down the side of the street, not knowing about yet another terrible thing happening in their city. Not yet. It was only a matter of time until the press would find out about the serial killings and then they would have an even greater mess to deal with on their hands.

“He was already identified as Isaac Owen Grayson, nine years old and reported missing two weeks ago,” Hank said blankly and he was clearly trying to shove his emotions down and get back in a more professional headspace.

Hank always had way too many emotions and a hard time concealing them why he was said to be like the ticking time bomb of their department and nobody really wanted to work with him.

Connor, on the other hand, was way too emotionless for most people’s likings. Their colleagues thought him to be creepy because he always stayed calm and seemingly unaffected, like a robot. The department’s number one douchebag, Gavin Reed, always said that Connor was probably some kind of android sent to them from the higher ups as a spy. The man was probably crazier than Connor and Hank together.

The fact that nobody felt comfortable around either of them had led to them being partnered for a lack of other options and at first, they had not gotten along. Hank had constantly lost his temper over being unable to get any kind of rise out of Connor while Connor had had two instances where he had completely disregarded his partner’s safety because he had been too set on following a suspect. Hank had verbally ripped him a new one for literally letting him hang off the roof of a seven-story building and prioritizing the chase of a suspect over his partner’s safety.

Somehow between then and now, they had stumbled upon a thing called _mutual respect_ and they had realised they actually worked pretty damn well together if the gave a little bit more of a fuck about the other. Hank kicked his ass about being a little more _human_ and Connor kept his partner from strangling suspects and uncooperative witnesses alike.

“Where exactly was he found and by whom?”

“An old lady walking her dog saw ‘something weird’ in the creek, right under the surface and her dog barked at it. Something like that. She called the police since that’s what old people do and while it was suspected to just be some trash, turned out it was the kid.” Hank stopped the car at a red light and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, causing Connor to narrow his eyes as the gesture but he kept quiet. “He was completely naked and hogtied, just like the others. Weird symbols carved into his skin.”

Connor hummed thoughtfully and mentally went through the list of things they had found at the other crime scenes—the benefit of having a photographic memory, he could perfectly remember a tonne of information without always having to carry a case file around or taking notes. Another reason he was called _robot_ , he supposed. Connor didn’t care either way since he considered this ability a gift that helped him do a damn good job. It had also helped him finish the academy at the top of his class after the minimum requirement of a 6-months attendance.

“I don’t know much more yet, they’re waiting for us before a more thorough examination,” Hank added and his partner nodded, gaze still cast out the passenger window and lost in thought.

The chance that this wasn’t a third murder by the same killer was slim to nonexistent and while there was a thrill going down Connor’s spine at the thought of such a challenge, he absolutely hated that people could do such an awful thing. As if killing a person wasn’t bad enough all in itself but _a child_?

Killing someone innocent, someone who couldn’t defend themselves (or itself when it came to animals) was definitely the lowest form of murder if there was a distinction to be made.

Connor wasn’t even sure if he could be glad about the fact that none of the victims so far had shown signs of sexual abuse. There was nothing good about such cases until they were solved and the culprit behind bars, locked away so the public was under one less threat.

“Get out of your head, boy, and haul your ass out of the car.”

Hank’s voice was followed by him doing just that and slamming the car door shut, leaving Connor to blankly stare after him for a beat. Then, Connor collected himself and followed his partner to the crime scene, climbing down the grassy slope that led down to a small forest—too small to actually even be called a forest—that lined the Ecorse Creek on both sides, hiding it from the view of the residential area surrounding the creek.

Connor absently wondered how an old lady might have managed to get down there but then he spotted a small trail where the vegetation between the trees and bushes had been trodden down. The trail led towards the houses and he figured the old lady probably lived in one of the homes, walking her dog over here after crossing through her garden and using the gate instead of leaving through the front door and taking the street.

“Sometimes I wonder why I chose this fucked-up line of work until I realise it’s the only thing I’m good at,” Hank muttered beside him, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat as he trudged along the trail towards the sound of water and a mess of voices.

It wasn’t hard to find the crime scene, not just because of the manageable size of the area but also because of the bustle of people already at the scene. There was yellow tape wrapped around trees to keep curious spectators from getting too close and the white clothing of the forensics was hard to miss between the greens and browns of the woods.

“It’s certainly not the only thing,” he belatedly tried to appease his partner but Hank only raised an eyebrow at him and Connor snapped his mouth shut. He hated small talk anyway and he wasn’t good at talking feelings, no matter how well-trained he may be in negotiating with suspects. Everything interpersonal seemed a lot more draining and complicated than getting any sort of confession out of someone.

“Lieutenant Anderson, Detective Avery,” one of the female officers greeted them, politely tipping her hat before pointing them in the direction of the body since they would start their part of the investigation from there.

“He’s presumed to have been in the water for quite some time. Over two days at least,” she informed them while walking with them to the spot next to the creek where the small body of a child was currently covered with a black plastic sheet to shield it from view and contamination.

“I hate this part.”

Connor glanced at Hank who was glaring at the sheet as if it had personally offended him and he couldn’t begin to imagine how much more horrible this case had to be for a man who had lost his own child in an accident years ago. Seeing dead children couldn’t be healthy after going through such a trauma but Hank refused to sit this one out.

“I told you that you can—“

“Dare to finish that sentence and I’ll knock you into the river, ya hear me, asshole?!”

Charming.

Connor huffed and rolled his eyes at the other man but shrugged dismissively. He didn’t want to pick a fight with his obviously riled up partner and Hank was a grown man, he had to know how much farther he was able to push himself before it got too much. It wasn’t Connor’s job to babysit the other man, this wasn’t the way he was supposed to look out for his partner—though he would step in without backing down if Hank did show signs of not being able to handle the situation remotely professionally anymore.

Since that conversation had ended before it even started, Connor crouched down next to the sheet and reached out to flip it aside without hesitation, not paying attention to the officer’s small noise and her retreating footsteps. Such a sight wasn’t for everyone, that much was sure.

Isaac’s body had very obviously been in the water for a little while, obvious by how bloated he was already, the skin turning a greenish-black colour in some areas and also wrinkly, the edges of his wounds frayed either from the weapon used to carve them into his skin or from the water as well.

Connor kept his eyes trained on the body while reaching for his gloves, slipping them on like the gesture was as natural to him as breathing which it kind of was. He didn’t have to remind himself to wear gloves at a crime scene, not even during his time in the academy. He had never been at the receiving end of a lecture about contaminating a crime scene.

The kid’s pale skin made his bluish lips stand out even more and Connor wondered if the boy had been dead before he had been discarded here or if he had drowned after he had gone through the trauma of his abuse. He hoped that at least the killer had ended the boy’s life before carving occult symbols into his skin but he knew that wasn’t the case with the other two victims either so the chances were pretty slim in this regard...

“He was pinned to the creek-bed with sticks to keep him submerged and the current of the creek isn’t that strong so the sticks were enough to keep him in place,” a new voice announced and Connor’s eyes flickered up to the man who had just joined them, immediately noticing that this was a new face and that would explain why the voice had been unfamiliar.

“And you are?” He inquired because Connor had a thing about at least getting to know a person’s name before having a work-related conversation with them. Plus, that way he could immediately create a mental folder with that person’s name on it to file away everything he learnt about them during the crucial first minutes of their first encounter and later on. Maybe it was his job’s fault that he did this, maybe his photogenic memory was to blame or maybe it was simply _him_ who needed this.

“Markus Jackson, I’m the new forensic pathologist for the homicide department. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the other man introduced himself with the hint of a smile that was polite but without the faintest hint of misplaced cheerfulness that tended to happen with other people that wanted to make a good impression and ended up awkwardly cheery for being at a crime scene. This guy knew how to present himself in such a setting which was good, definitely a plus.

“Detective Connor Avery and this is my partner, Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” Connor introduced both of them and Hank simply nodded at the newcomer, not really bothering to pay him much attention because his eyes travelled across the lifeless body of the child in front of them. They skipped the handshake for obvious reasons and Connor’s attention went back to the body as well. “Pinned to the creekbed with sticks, you say. So drowning wasn’t the cause of death, I presume?”

“No. I’ve yet to examine the victim more thoroughly, obviously, but it’s safe to say that the boy was dead before he was discarded in the water.” Jackson stepped around them to crouch down on the opposite side of the body, pointing a gloved finger to the rope-burns on the victim’s wrists and ankles that were visible despite the rope still being in place, keeping the boy in an almost fetal position lying on his side. “The ropes were attached antemortem, easy to tell by the colour and extent of the bruising that shows signs of a struggle.”

Connor knew that already but he simply hummed to show he was listening instead of pointing out that even those not working in forensics or pathology knew a little something about these obvious mark on a dead body. He could read these signs easily enough by now but the more hidden clues were the ones Connor was most interested in. Or, rather, he wanted to know what those told them about the killer rather than the victim.

“I estimate that he must have been in the creek for two to three days, four at the most,” Jackson added like an afterthought and he regarded the victim with a small frown that caused his eyes to narrow. Eyes that, Connor now noticed, had two different colours—one seafoam green and the other a pale blue.

 _Heterochromia iridium or heterochromia iridis_ , his brain supplied absently before it flickered back to the pressing topic at hand.

“I will be able to narrow the timeframe down to at least an exact day as soon as I get the victim into my lab for a proper examination,” the other man added and reached for the black sheet but his hand stopped mid-air, hovering there while his heterochromatic eyes glanced up to meet Connor’s. “May I?”

Connor nodded and there was nothing much they could identify on the body since there were no clothes pockets to look through and they needed the input of a professional to determine the actual cause of death, plus they had to wait for the other forensics to later provide them with photos of all the symbols on the boy’s body so they could get started on figuring out what they meant.

“You know where they pulled the body out?” Hank asked in his usually gruff tone and nodded in thanks when Jackson pointed them towards two officers and a forensic who were currently wading through the muddy water of the creek, looking for more clues or anything that might be connected to the case and could give them a lead on the killer.

Connor got up and his eyes briefly flickered back to the new forensic pathologist who was now covering the dead body up again, that frown from before back on his face. He caught himself wondering for how long the other man was done with his training and actually working this job by now because his instinct told him that Jackson guy was at least not used to being out in the field by the way he lingered around the body.

He shook the thoughts off and followed his partner who was already halfway to the creek and calling out to the three guys to ask if they had found anything yet.

“Nothing so far, Lieutenant,” one of the men answered and then cursed under his breath when the movement of the others caused dirty water to slosh over the top of his rubber boots that were barely high enough to keep the water out as it was.

“There are no signs of the boy’s clothes or other belongings. No footprints either,” the second officer reported while shaking his head at his still cursing colleague and kept on poking around in the water with a metal stick to shake loose anything that might also be pinned to the creek bed.

They had already set up a net across the width of the creek a few feet downstream to catch anything useful that might have come loose through all the poking around and someone was checking the net every now and then but it didn’t seem successful so far. There was a big plastic box set up near the shore of the creek to collect evidence but so far, there only seemed to be a few sticks inside—presumably the ones that had been used to pin the victim’s body down.

“The killer never left any of the victims’ belongings at the site. It’s highly unlikely for the pattern to suddenly change. While the place they dispose of the body varies every time, they still seem to follow the exact same pattern: the kids are naked, hogtied, the symbols carved into their skin and the place they were found is highly unlikely to be where their life ended,” Connor mused, simply repeating the knowledge they had gathered so far since it was sometimes easier to collect his thoughts when he just put them out there and could bounce ideas off of Hank—something he had had to learn, getting away from the habit of being stuck in his own mind for most of the time.

Teamwork had a better success-rate if there was actual communication going on.

Who would have thought?

Connor absently brushed his palms against his upper thighs, feeling his phone in the right pocket of his slacks and the outlines of his ‘lucky coin’ in the left pocket, the feeling always somewhat grounding and helping him to focus.

“And we already know those symbols are of occult nature,” he added while slowly walking along the creek, eyes on the ground to spot anything out of the ordinary, any hint at a footprint but despite the ground being rather soft and squishing quietly with every step he took, there were none. Connor made a mental note to check the weather report of the past few days for the area.

“Can we pack up the body and get it back to the lab? Someone reported a news van heading this direction and we’d rather not have them see the state of the victim,” the female officer from earlier called over and Connor glanced at Hank who simply made a dismissive gesture to indicate _go ahead_.

“Yeah, the sooner we get the examination report, the better,” Connor called out with a nod and caught the Jackson guy looking at him for a second before the other man was distracted by having to instruct some of the forensics in wrapping up the body and getting it onto the stretcher to transport it back to the lab.

“How does this guy manage to never leave a trace?!”

Connor glanced at his partner when he heard Hank mutter these words to nobody in particular and he automatically corrected the other man to “We don’t know if the murderer is male or female” because they really had no idea of the person’s gender yet.

“How many times are these kinds of killings done by a man, though?” Hank pointed out with a glower and Connor barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“You know it’s dangerous to zero in on stuff like this without actual evidence. The killer can just as well be female but if you keep on telling yourself it’s a male, it will cloud your judgement towards female suspects and heighten the risk of ruling them out based on such a nonsensical notion.”

He knew Hank hated his rationalism but the other man said nothing, only huffed and stuffed his hands back into the pockets of his coat, hunching his shoulders against the cool breeze starting up now.

Connor tilted his head back to glance at the clouds and it would probably start raining again soon so they better had to hurry in frisking the area for clues. He tugged his gloves off, discarding them into one of the trash bags their colleagues had lying around and grabbing a fresh pair to slip into the back pocket of his pants before making his way over to the makeshift bridge—a simple board that had been placed across the narrow creek—that led to the other side of the creek so he could help his colleagues looking for evidence.

Five years since his promotion to homicide detective and this was his first serial killer. Connor knew he shouldn’t be thrilled about it but he couldn’t help but look forward to the challenge of catching the bastard who did this, chasing them down and bringing justice to the poor kids that had fallen victim to such a sick game.


	2. February 7, 2028

**February 7, 2028**

Hank snatched the report from Jackson’s hand before Connor could even think about putting his coffee mug down to reach out for the folder the forensic pathologist had just brought to them after finishing his examination of the latest victim, Isaac Owen Grayson. 

He briefly nodded his thanks at Jackson for personally getting the file to them and got up from his desk to join his partner and get a look at the report himself because he was not patient enough to wait for Hank to finish reading it. Connor’s eyes flickered across the paper, his mind absently registering that Jackson turned on his heels and left to head back to his own workspace downstairs, and quickly zeroed in on the details that made it quite obvious the murderer had to be the same as in the previous two cases.

“Again with the rose petals? What the hell’s up with that shit?!” Hank muttered when he read the passage about what had been found in the kid’s stomach—traces of some baked good with traces of a narcotic and some rose petals. It made sense that the killer probably offered the kids some sweets—a muffin or cake or something similar—to earn their trust and since there was a narcotic added to the mix, this was also how they had managed to get a hold of the boys.

“Maybe they think it’s poetic?” Connor mused but, honestly, he couldn’t quite make sense of the rose petals either. It was odd but maybe it was some kind of signature of the killer? A painter would write their name on their artwork, a serial killer often left something else on his victim to show it was their doing.

“Poetic, really? It’s just sick, that’s what this is.”

“Obviously. But I’m sure the petals do have some kind of meaning to the killer and maybe it will be the thing that will get them caught if we manage to find out what’s up with that,” Connor said with a small shrug and he didn’t argue with the fact that everything about this case was sick. People killing other people in cold blood was sick. Killing children in cold blood was even sicker.

While this line of work was incredibly fascinating, Connor would never understand how a human being could end up doing such things. If someone planned to kill another living being, calculated the whole process and took their time with it, they deserved to get locked up for the rest of their life and that was exactly Connor’s motivation behind choosing this line of work. 

He wasn’t good with interpersonal things but this, this right here he could do—he could analyse and keep an emotional distance to these cases, stay focused without having his mind blurred by unnecessary involvement of feelings towards the victims. Maybe he was somewhat sick as well in this regard but at least he chose to use it for something good instead of posing a threat to others.

“We’ve got nothing so far when it comes to the murderer so it would be fucking great if those petals gave us a hint but I highly doubt it. Maybe whatever this person was baking has such a weird recipe,” Hank muttered and while Connor knew they would look into it because they did their work properly, he had to agree with his partner that he couldn’t quite see this going very far or lead them to a suspect.

Connor made a mental note to research flower petals in baking recipes and he had the fleeting thought of the murderer maybe working in such a profession—in a pastry shop—since rose petals did seem like something that wouldn’t be used in regular baked goods but rather for special occasions like weddings. Though the killer could just as well simply enjoy baking in their free time. It could be everything and nothing.

When Hank was done looking at the report, Connor snatched it up and slumped back into his chair to study it a little more closely, thoughtfully tapping his fingertips against his lips while doing so.

“Rope burns on wrists and ankles, rose petals and hints of what might have been a cupcake in the stomach contents, no signs of sexual abuse but bruising on the torso that can’t stem from the tightness with which the kid was hogtied. Cause of death is asphyxiation by presumably a pillow or something similar since there were cotton fibres found in the victim’s lungs,” Connor muttered while his eyes flickered from sentence to sentence and he briefly glanced up when he heard Hank exhale a loud breath.

“It’s like reading the other two reports again. It’s almost exactly the same and it makes just as little sense,” the older man groused while heavily slumping into his own chair as well, tugging himself towards his desk with an annoyed frown. “Why go through all that trouble? Why press down on their chest hard enough to bruise? If the killer wanted to suffocate them, why try it that way and not wrap their hands around the kid’s neck or take the pillow right from the start. Especially since they have done so the first two times??”

Connor sighed and shook his head because he didn’t know the answer to that. “Maybe the bruising isn’t the result from them trying to suffocate their victim but...it has a different meaning to them? Or they did try to kill their victim that way the first time, failed and either decided to keep it up to always have it be the same or it’s...I don’t know...about the symmetry in general?”

Three victims and Connor didn’t feel like they were getting any more things to go on with this. Another dead child in the morgue, another set of parents devastated by losing their son and the police were fucking lost. Connor loved and hated his job sometimes.

“So we’re back to ‘it could be something or it could be absolutely nothing’, great, that way we won’t solve this case in ten years,” Hank complained, angrily punching his password into the computer and Connor resisted the temptation to point out that his colleague would only break the keyboard if he kept on abusing it like this. His partner would probably end up throwing said keyboard at his head if Connor dared to make such a comment.

“Maybe we missed something at the crime scenes that’ll help?”

“We’ve been to the other crime scenes multiple times but didn’t find anything more. We’re grasping at straws  _ already _ and it’s a fucking miracle the press doesn’t know about having a serial killer in the city but it’s only a matter of time and then what? When the public hears about this, we’re screwed since we can’t even tell them anything!”

Hank and his habit to work himself up.

Sure, Connor got that they were in quite the mess with their lack of progress but they needed at least some starting point of where to look for the killer. “As I already mentioned last time, in most cases where the victim is a child, the attacker is somehow personally connected to them.”

“Are you suggesting again to look into the parents? Are you out of your mind?!”

“We can’t exactly  _ not _ investigate them. It’s standard procedure to ask more in-depth questions and if they have nothing to hide, they should willingly offer all the information that might lead to catching their boy’s killer,” Connor said matter-of-factly and he got that it seemed insensitive for the police to investigate close family when a child died, especially without any real hint at the boys having been killed by a family member, but they had to start somewhere. Plus, it wasn’t that far off to look at the people closest to the kids first but so far, Hank had pushed the suggestion off and said they should find an actual lead first before pestering the grieving parents with such bullshit.

Connor was sure that Hank wouldn’t be so reluctant about this if it wasn’t for his own loss. He probably thought of how devastated he had felt after losing his young son Cole in an accident years ago and how horrible he would have felt if someone had insinuated to blame him for the death of his child.

And he understood, he really did, but they couldn’t always just pick the sensible thing to do in their line of work. They had to find a killer and if that meant getting on the parents’ bad side by being thorough, Connor would take that risk. He’d rather make sure it wasn’t the parents than end up finding out if it had been one of them or someone else from the family while they had spent all their time and resources on chasing some stranger.

Going behind Hank’s back was not something he would usually ever consider but with this case...maybe Connor should just follow his gut and pay the families a visit, just to get a better feel for them and a possible involvement. Plus, they definitely had to figure out the connection between these kids anyway, they couldn’t have been picked randomly!

“For the record, I don’t think any of the parents are the killer because why would they kill their own child and those of the other families? But maybe there is a person each of these families knows. Surely I don’t have to tell you that we  _ have to  _ speak to the parents again one way or another,” Connor said with a sigh and flipped the report closed. He wasn’t happy with that either, mostly because he thought it was exhausting to subtly interrogate people that had been through something as traumatic as losing a child. 

He was all about gathering the information he needed and get on with the case but, obviously, they had to tread carefully with these parents and he didn’t want to cause them more pain than they were already going through.

“Of course, I know that.” Hank glowered at his computer screen for a beat and then straightened his shoulders before fixing his gaze on Connor with sudden determination. “How about we head to the Logan’s tomorrow, start with the first case again and pay the others a visit the following days as well?”

“Sounds like a better plan than sitting here, poking around the crime scenes or staring at the autopsy report for hours,” Connor shrugged and he was more than up for some proper investigation because this case was sorrowly lacking just that.

Hopefully, they would finally find a useful lead this way.


	3. February 8, 2028

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to not start a proper upload schedule with this story because I always end up trying to get chapters to approximately the same length and stress myself over having a proper schedule so this story is the experiment to break such habits; Varying chapter lengths, upload whenever I get the next chapter done instead of writing to keep a set schedule and so on.
> 
> I'm kind of pleased with how this chapter and especially Hank turned out so I hope you enjoy it as well :D

**February 8, 2028**

“You shoulda seen the way she was ogling the new guy. As if she was just about to drop to her knees, that bitch.”

Connor had just been about to head for the exit of the precinct to meet up with Hank and head to the Logan family’s home—their eleven-year-old son Tyler had been the first victim of the serial killer as far as they knew—but Gavin Reed’s voice from the breakroom stopped him dead in his tracks.

“If you spent more time respecting your colleagues, not objectifying your female coworkers, and stopped gossiping about half of the precinct, maybe you would actually be decent at your work and manage to get the promotion you’ve been aiming for the past two years,” Connor drawled and while he usually tried to not get involved in such nonsense, Gavin made it exceptionally hard to ignore him and count himself out of the equation.

For some reason, barely anyone dared to speak up against the douchebag #1 in their precinct but Connor and Hank did—which made them even more of a sore spot for a lot of colleagues—so Gavin had a special place in his empty heart reserved just for them. And not in a good way.

“Oh, I thought I heard someone talk but turns out its just some static coming from our favourite RoboCop,” Gavin snarked back without missing a beat, glowering at Connor with unhidden resentment and the young detective really wondered how he had managed to get on this guy’s bad side so incredibly fast. “How about you do your own work and find that child-killer instead of listening in on other people’s private conversations!”

Connor narrowed his eyes at the other man and opened his mouth to throw a sarcastic comment back but a heavy hand landing on his shoulder, causing him to flinch, stopping him before a single word had left his lips.

“I have to agree with the lazy bastard; we have more important things to do than waste our time with pointless fights. Let him get back to his childish gossip and failing at his job, its what he does best. We, on the other hand, have got ourselves a serial killer to catch,” Hank’s voice sounded from behind Connor before he could turn his head to figure out who’s hand was currently resting warmly on his shoulder.

His lips twitched a little but he reigned his smirk in at the sight of Gavin’s angrily flushed face, raising a hand to tip his non-existent hat before turning around to follow his partner out of the precinct, barely paying attention to the string of curses trailing after them from the break room.

“He’s a piece of shit. You should just ignore him.”

“Easier said than done,” Connor huffed and absently checked if he had everything on him, while he followed Hank to his rusty old car.

Technology had advanced so far by now that self-driving cars were a rather common occurrence but for some reason, Hank still stuck to the beat-up old car he needed to steer himself, not even automatic but stick-shift. Connor barely even remembered how to operate such a car since he had only driven one for barely a year after getting his license before getting a self-driving one. But Hank was generally one of those people who were against all this high-end technology everywhere, grousing about how at this rate it would only be a matter of time until they would all be replaced by robots.

“The job’s already unhealthy enough for the blood pressure, don’t let a prick like that make it even worse. Believe me, I’d like to rip him a new one for most of the crap that comes out of his filthy mouth but it ain’t my job to teach him basic human decency and I sure as hell ain’t got the time for it anyway,” Hank replied and slumped into his car after unlocking it, glancing at Connor when the young detective climbed into the passenger seat, always surprised about the slight drop because the seat was so oddly low.

“If we don’t speak up against him, nobody does, though. Might not be our _job_ job to correct him but we can’t exactly complain about him while simultaneously doing nothing to change his crappy behaviour. He won’t change if nobody makes an effort to get him to,” Connor replied with a shrug and he knew he was being too ‘proper’ for Hank’s liking but that didn’t change the fact that he felt himself in the right about this.

“Ah, I remember, back in the day, when I was young and naively thought I could change the world, one dickwad at a time. You’re in for a big disappointment, kiddo.”

Connor rolled his eyes and reached for his seatbelt when Hank started the car and the vehicle jolted forwards with the engine sputtering to life, screeching when his partner drove off the DPD’s parking lot and onto the crowded streets.

*******

“Would ya stop looking like a kicked puppy?! My appetite dwindles the longer I’m forced to look at that face,” Hank complained but he still took another big bite of the burger in his hand, some of the bbq-sauce dripping onto the paper plate on the metal table in front of him.

Connor made a disgusted face as his eyes followed the spill, wrinkling his nose for good measure.

“First of all: I’m not looking like a kicked puppy. Second: how are you having any appetite at all?!” He replied and his stomach churned at the mere thought of putting any food in his mouth, let alone such greasy horror from a food truck that violated at least three health codes right off the bat and surely even more at a second glance that Connor wasn’t willing to take. He never did. Because for some odd reason his partner loved this dump and the food sold here, not just because of the stupid gambling he got roped into every once in a while.

It was one of the first things Connor had learnt after becoming Hank’s partner: don’t mess with the man’s favourite food truck or the dingy bars he tended to frequent or you’ll end up on the lieutenant’s eternal shit list, to put it nicely.

“I can only laugh at everyone who actually thinks you’re like an emotionless robot. They should see you right now,” his partner huffed and licked some sauce off his lips, uncaring that some had dribbled down to cling to his scruffy beard. “Also, me not eating anything won’t do these people any good. They won’t get their dead child back if I starve myself and I won’t be able to do my job properly if I let it get to me. It’s one of the most important things for you rookies to learn.”

Connor didn’t even deem the first part with a reply because he _loathed_ this whole bullshit-talk about him being like a robot. He was simply being professional around the precinct and by now only let his guard down around Hank after realising that the lieutenant, in turn, hated people who were stuck in their professionalism and refused to show humanity—no matter how much he complained whenever Connor did the latter.

“I know it doesn’t help the poor parents but seeing people devastated after losing their child and having to answer questions about what happened to their kid doesn’t exactly spike my appetite either,” he pointed out with a huff and leant his elbow on the top of the bar table after giving the surface a dirty look. He didn’t want to think about what was probably clinging to the metal and now to his sleeve as well.

“Plus, I’m far from being a rookie anymore.”

Hank merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him and apparently, everyone with less than 10 years of experience in the field would still be a rookie to the man.

Connor had been promoted to homicide detective at the relatively young age of 27 already and since then, he had been partnered with Hank so they had been working together for five years. _Definitely not a rookie anymore_.

“Look, Connor, I know how hard it is sometimes to not let it get to you and surely I don’t have to tell you what this shitty case means for me but we gotta do our job and we gotta eat and not slip into some depressed bullshit mood or we won’t be able to at least get closure for these dead kids’ parents.”

He slumped his shoulders a little and pressed his lips into a thin line before breathing out and nodding. Connor knew Hank was right and most of the time he managed to not let things get to him too much but this was his first case involving dead children so he was yet to find his footing in dealing with all of this.

“Come on, now, get yourself something to eat. Believe me, greasy food is good for the soul,” the lieutenant suggested with a grin before taking another bite of his burger and humming appreciatively, once again not minding the sauce dripping everywhere.

This man was such a mess sometimes.

“I’m sure your cholesterol level would disagree with that and I’d rather get food from a place that doesn’t scream of health code violations,” Connor deadpanned and offered a lopsided grin when Hank openly glared at him for daring to insult his beloved food truck.

The first time they had come here and Connor had made a comment that was remotely bad—which he had, multiple ones and more scathing than the teasing ones he let off now—the lieutenant had been this close to punching him in the face. By now, glares and insults without much heat behind them were all he got in return.

“Alright, let me finish this and we’ll head to a place that’s suitable for your delicate palate,” Hank groused and basically shoved the last two bites of his burger into his mouth in one go a moment later, the sight almost causing Connor to gag and he really didn’t get how his partner was so into this junk food.

It wasn’t that Connor didn’t like fast food—pizza was his guilty-pleasure way too often—but he still had at least some sort of standard regarding where the junk food came from and this food truck was at the bottom of his list of possibilities. Scratch that. It would never make the list in the first place.


	4. February 13, 2028

**February 13, 2028**

_‘Allegedly, this isn’t the first child that has gone missing over the past weeks here in Detroit but the police seems to keep all information to themselves instead of warning the citizens and therefore protecting more children from being abducted.’_

Connor glowered at subtitles on the muted tv screen in the food truck, angrily stabbing the salad he had bought a little earlier since he felt absolutely no appetite to eat it anymore.

Another child had been reported missing this morning and clearly, the parents hadn’t heeded their warning to _not_ turn to the news with it so now they had a shitstorm coming their way for not informing the public about any of this. Of course, it would be turned against the police and to make them look bad instead of considering that they had kept it under wraps in order to protect the kids.

They didn’t know anything about the killer so having his victims declared publicly missing could lead to faster kills because with it being public, the risk of getting caught was raised. Sadly, it didn’t make it any easier for the police but they would have to deal with it now and talk to the public about it otherwise they were even more screwed.

“Fucking vultures,” Hank muttered with his mouth full of burger while a reporter was shown on screen, standing in front of the small house where the Garcias lived—the family who’s second youngest son had gone missing the evening before. This was another reason to keep the information out of the public because now the parents would be pestered by the news all the damn time which sure didn’t do them any good with the strained nerves from missing their kid.

“I get that people think it will be easier and faster to find whoever did this by involving as many people as possible but we _told_ them why they should keep quiet about it at least for now,” the young detective muttered with annoyance and stabbed a piece of potato in his salad, always raising it to his mouth before dropping it back into the bowl together with the fork because the healthy food really wasn’t appealing anymore at all.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later. It always does. Yeah, it’s shit and complicates our work plus potentially endangers the victims further but there’s nothing we can do about it now. No reason to cry over spilt milk, kiddo,” his partner said with a shrug and while he was clearly grouchy about this development as well, Hank had clearly gotten used to cases not going according to plan over the course of his many years in the police force.

“More like spilt oil that could be set on fire any moment,” Connor muttered, still glaring at the screen that was still showing reports about the matter and complaining about how the police seemed incapable of doing their job.

“Still, we can't change that the public knows now so—Oi, hands off my food!!” Hank tried to slap away Connor’s hand but the young detective had snatched his partner’s burger off his paper plate and simply taken a bite out of it without batting an eyelash. “What the hell is wrong with you! Stealing another man’s food.”

Connor batted his eyelashes innocently and he honestly didn’t know what had come over him but all of this had seriously managed to push him to the point where even the unappealing look of the burger didn’t faze him much and since Hank always said this crappy food helped…

“Sorry?”

“You don’t look sorry. Could’ve just gotten your own burger, the fucking truck is right there,” Hank said while gesturing to the said food truck with an unhappy expression and he looked even more annoyed when Connor simply placed the burger back into his plate. “Oh hell no! You can keep this thing! I will get myself a new one.”

With that, Hank glared at his partner again and then walked up to the truck to order a new burger but not before pushing the paper plate with the old one towards Connor.

Connor had to admit the burgers didn’t look very appealing and he didn’t want to think about all those calories but the taste was surprisingly good. He absently brushed some sauce from his bottom lip with his thumb, licking it off before actually taking another bite of the overly greasy food.

“At least you're finally eating properly,” Hank commented when he returned with his new burger, placing it on the table where it was the farthest away from Connor who’s mouth twitched in amusement.

“This still doesn’t count as proper food in my book but I do have to admit it does taste kind of okay after such a day,” the young detective said and laughed when Hank scoffed at his choice of words, muttering something about Connor being a ‘fucking snob’ before taking a bite of his burger.

“You always eat this crappy stuff and put so many unhealthy things into your body but then ran off at the thought of eating a burger that I had taken a bite off. Doesn’t suit you to suddenly turn into a germaphobe,” Connor teased and now also stole a few of Hank’s fries that were sitting in another styrofoam bowl in the centre of the table. Since he was already eating this terrible stuff, he could just commit fully to the cause for this once.

“Eating junk food and sharing slobber with someone are two very different things. I’m actually surprised you’re not a germaphobe, considering how picky you are about food.”

“I’m not picky, I’m simply trying to be healthy.”

“Like I said, _picky_ ,” Hank said with another shrug and Connor rolled his eyes fondly before he continued to eat the burger. He would definitely go for a very long run the next day in order to not feel too guilty about eating this crap but right now the greasy food actually seemed to manage to soothe his mood.

*******

“I made it very clear for you to instruct the parents about the risks of going to the press about this and now what happened?! Not even five hours after you went over there, the story is all over the news and the press in on all our asses! You incompetent fools!”

Connor frowned sourly but kept his lips pressed into a thin line, gaze glued to the floor in front of his feet because by now he knew to just take Fowler’s angry monologues. Trying to argue with the man would only drag this visit to their boss’ office out for longer than strictly necessary while not changing a damn thing about their situation plus it would also lead to Hank being even grumpier than he already was at this point about yet another scolding by their captain.

„We did instruct them but, clearly, they decided to go against our advice.”

Connor was surprised that Hank was the one who talked back to the captain this time, despite having told Connor not to do that after their first time in a similar situation like this. Though he figured the fact Hank and Fowler knew each other from way back when probably put the lieutenant in a position to have the right to argue with the man without risking too much in the process.

“Then you weren’t insistent enough! Did you tell them this could lead to their child’s _death_?? That they risk their boy’s life by making this public and force this psychopath to make a move because he’s forced into a corner?” Fowler glared at both of them as if they had any control over what other people did.

“We told them how dangerous it is to go public but they’re understandably scared. They’re terrified of what might be done to their son and they want as much help as possible finding him in time. We can’t blame them for wanting their child back and for trying everything they can think of to do so,” Connor interjected because it was absolutely stupid that they were scolded like naughty children for someone else’s mistake.

“Do you think I’m stupid? I know that but we’re the ones who have to make sure people are safe and don’t act irrationally and endanger the victims even further! Of course, the parents are scared out of their minds but it’s on us to help them and find their kid.”

“With all due respect, sir, but we’re doing a shitty job at finding the children alive so far,” Connor commented dryly and he was starting to get really annoyed.

Fowler's forehead creased even more in anger now and he even slammed his fist onto the desk, almost causing Connor to flinch at the loud bang echoing through the room. “Which is exactly the reason why you fools should stop talking back to me and go do your damn jobs already! We need results soon or the press and the public will be the least of our worries!”

Before the young detective could add anything else that would surely only add fuel to the flames, Hank basically grabbed him by the lapels and pushed him towards the door in a very obvious “get out of here” gesture that Connor rolled his eyes at but followed nonetheless. Instead of following him, his partner stayed behind and Connor huffed at the door clicking shut behind him before turning around to stride down the hallway.

When he rounded the next corner, he almost collided with someone and barely managed to scramble a step back, his shoulder bumping into the wall in his attempt to not lose his balance.

“Woah, you okay? You rushed around that corner as if someone was after you.”

At least it wasn’t Gavin because that would have been his luck today to end up running into that asshole after this shitshow in Fowler's office just now. Instead, he was faced with a slightly wide-eyed Markus Jackson who had his hands raised slightly out of reflex.

“I’m fine,” the young detective answered a little belatedly, having briefly gotten oddly distracted by the other man’s bicoloured eyes that did look quite fascinating from up close, he had to admit. Not that this was the time for things like that.

“Are you sure? Not to be rude or overstep but you seem tense,” the other man pointed out while dropping his hands to his side, a careful smile making its way onto his lips.

“Stressful day.” Connor knew he was being rude but he was absolutely not in the mood for silly small talk because Fowler was right that it was their job to find the kid and keep it safe but so far they had failed spectacularly at that and he _hated_ it. The thought that another kid would show up dead because they were incapable of getting a lead on the killer was unacceptable!

“Yeah, I get it. The case is messed up and as far as I’m informed we’re still lacking suspects,” Jackson said with a sigh, brushing a hand over his buzzed hair before stepping aside but instead of being on his way, he actually turned around and sided with Connor, gesturing down the hallway towards the break room. “Come on, how about a cup of coffee or tea? Beating yourself up over the case won’t solve it either so maybe take a little breather, how about it?”

Connor was this close to agreeing because somehow, the new guy just had the kind of face that made it quite impossible to say no to—his warm eyes, open body language and kind smile seemed to have an oddly alluring effect. Before he could utter a reply, though, the door to Fowler’s office slammed open and a fuming Hank stomped down the hallway, grabbing his partner on his way past and dragging him back in the direction of their desks with a grumbled: “Back to work, kiddo!”

The young detective glanced over his shoulder and barely managed a one-sided shrug and a lopsided, apologetic smile in Jackson’s direction who simply stared after them with raised eyebrows and a hint of amusement in the upturned corners of his mouth.


	5. February 14, 2028

**February 14, 2028**  

“Happy _fucking_ Valentine’s Day.”

Connor side-eyed his partner warily and resisted the urge to grab the dashboard when the creaky old car swivelled slightly upon being manoeuvred around a sharp corner with a little too much speed. Hank’s driving usually wasn’t this horrible but right now they were on the way to yet another crime scene. Though this time, the victim was still alive—barely if the call they had just gotten was anything to go by.

While the injured and unconscious boy was already rushed to the hospital, Connor and Hank were on their way to the scene where he had been found in hopes of finding fresh and useful evidence since the killer clearly had been interrupted before finishing their self-imposed task.

“So, once again we’ve got a dog alerting their owner to something suspicious?” The young detective asked while inwardly praying that they would reach the crime scene in one piece at the speed they were currently going. Since Hank’s car was outdated, it wasn’t allowed as an official car and therefore they couldn’t even use emergency lights to clear their way—not that such a rule would actually stop Hank since he did have an emergency light in his car and he was not above using it but apparently this was not pressing enough to do just that.

“Yeah. Wasn’t the dog of an old lady this time, though. I think it was a jogger or someone crazy like that. A young guy,” the lieutenant said since he had been the one to answer the call and he had only given Connor a very brief rundown while rushing to the car to get going. “His dog suddenly started barking and growling, leading the owner to some area surrounded by foliage and the guy barely saw some hooded figure slipping away so I doubt we’ll get any kind of useful description of the suspect.”

Connor hummed and he hadn’t even gotten his hopes up that they would get so lucky but hopefully, the child would survive this ordeal and trauma. Having one of the victims alive and as an eyewitness was a close second to the best case scenario of catching the killer right away.

“Is the identity of the boy already established? Is it the Garcia boy?”

“We don’t know yet but apparently they were remotely sure the kid didn’t look Hispanic so...might not be him,” Hank replied gruffly and on one hand they were glad the kid was still alive but on the other hand it was worrisome that the killer might have kidnapped two boys at the same time now.

Ten minutes later, they reached the Rogue Park where the boy had been found and Hank parked his car next to the police cars lined up with flashing lights to block off the area. Connor climbed out of the vehicle as soon as it stopped and walked over to their colleagues, smoothly brushing his jacket aside to show the badge clipped to his belt before him and Hank were allowed past the yellow police tape.

The same female officer that had already greeted them at the scene where the Grayson boy had been found showed up to greet them a moment later. She smiled tightly at them, her face pale and hair a little ruffled where it was haphazardly tucked underneath her hat.

“Lieutenant Anderson, Detective Avery,” she greeted both of them with a respectful nod before motioning for the two men to follow her towards the bushes where a few forensics had already started taking photos of the scene and placing tags in front of every possible piece of evidence.

“Is the witness still around or already brought in for questioning?” Connor inquired while his gaze flickered over the area in front of them, spotting broken branches and scuff marks on the ground, an obvious sign of struggle. There was a piece of rope partly covered by leaves and either it had been meant for tying the victim up or it had been the remaining bit of the rope—Connor didn’t know if the kid had been hogtied already or not.

“An officer accompanied the witness home so he could drop off his dog and afterwards they will head right to the station,” the office answered and Connor nodded slightly to show he had registered her reply.

“Hank, would you mind if I headed to the station right away? I want to interview the witness as soon as possible,” the young detective asked his partner and while he knew it wasn’t his place to call the shots as the younger cop, Connor was specially trained for interrogations and he always did a damn good job at them, not just when it came to suspects but witnesses as well. He always knew the right questions to ask and to get the most out of any conversation if need be.

“Yeah, I mind but I know you handle that stuff better than me so get lost already. I’ll keep you posted on everything going on here,” the lieutenant made a dismissive gesture and then directed his attention at one of the forensic guys, asking him about the progress so far.

Connor huffed but didn’t stop to argue with the other man and just when he was about to turn around to head back to the cars in order to get someone to give him a ride, the young officer gently touched his upper arm.

“I wanted to head back to the precinct in a few minutes anyway,” she said and smiled lightly, clearly offering to give Connor a ride and he certainly wouldn’t decline it.

“It would be great if you let me tag along,” he said with a friendly smile of his own and the young woman nodded right away, almost hastily.

“Of course, Detective Avery, it would be a pleasure.”

It happened every now and again, that officers were overly polite and almost humbled to be talking to those of higher ranks. It was oddly endearing and simultaneously awkward.

While they were headed for the cars and the officer patted the pockets of her uniform for the car keys, Connor asked for her name since he hadn’t caught it if she had ever even been introduced to him. He might have a photogenic memory but it wasn’t very useful when it came to remembering names, unfortunately.

“Patricia Cooper,” she introduced herself with the slightest hint of a flush on her freckled cheeks.

“It’s nice to meet you, Officer Cooper,” Connor replied politely as he opened the passenger door of the squad car, almost uttering a noise of amusement when he saw her cheeks pinken even more. He never quite got why simple, friendly interactions managed to get some people flustered but maybe she was just quite new at the job and nervous about doing well in front of higher-ranked colleagues. It was a common thing happening with rookies and everyone had been annoyed when Connor hadn’t been that type of rookie.

“Likewise,” officer Cooper said softly before pushing the start button in the car, the engine softly humming to life before it started backing out of the parking space on its own which caused Connor to relax back into the seat—it was odd how he felt more comfortable in the standard-issued self-driving vehicles than in one of the last remaining old-school cars aka Hank’s jalopy.

*******

„My Name is James Peterson and I’m 27 years old,” the witness introduced himself after Connor asked him to and the young detective placed recording device further into the centre of the table so they would have better audio.

“Mister Peterson, would you please just recount what happened today? As detailed as you can, even if you think some things are not of importance but sometimes the smallest factors can already help us get a lead on the suspect,” Connor asked the young man while leaning back on his chair, watching mister Peterson take a sip of his coffee.

The man seemed ruffled from the events of the day—understandably—but also quite put together and Connor was optimistic that he would be able to give a useful recount of the events or at least one that was close to what actually happened. The more nervous and in shock someone was, the lesser the chances of them actually remembering what had truly happened.

“I was jogging in Rogue Park as usual, with my dog Bowser, and he always sticks to my side—of course he was on his leash anyway—but suddenly he started barking and tugging me off the path towards these bushes. At first I tried to get him back on track but he was so insistent and I never saw him agitated before which is why I decided to go look what had caused him to freak out,” the man started telling what had happened and Connor paid close attention to the way the witness was speaking—his wording, pauses and his body language.

The young detective could always listen to the content of report again later, though he was obviously paying attention to that as well, for now, it was important for him to know if all of that was actually true or at least believed to be true by mister Peterson.

“When I reached the bushes, I saw a hooded figure, dressed mostly in brown, running away and Bowser actually wanted to follow the person. I barely managed to hold on to his leash and it startled me more than the person running away, to be honest,” the witness kept on explaining with a small frown, gaze directed at the table as he clearly tried to remember everything as good as possible. “You know, Bowser is a Rottweiler and they have this terrible reputation but he’s usually really sweet and calm, not freaking out like that.”

Connor nodded in understanding at that and he actually did get it. He was a dog person himself and had always thought it to be absolutely ridiculous to pin aggressive behaviour to certain breeds since it always came down to training and sometimes also personality—animals could be wired wrong just like humans, so some of them simply went nuts because of certain chemicals in their brains but it had absolutely nothing to do with their breed. Though this wasn’t the moment to start a discussion about such matters and the young detective rather wanted to focus on more important things.

“Anyway...after the person ran off, Bowser still tugged towards the area where they had fled from and that’s when I saw the kid on the ground. First I thought the boy was just curled up but then I saw his hands and feet were tied with a rope and there was a knife on the ground next to him. I immediately called the cops—pardon, the police—when I realised the kid was unconscious but not dead like I initially thought.”

The young detective almost grinned at the way the man corrected himself, though he honestly never gave a crap whether he was referred to as a _cop_ or _policeman_ or whatever. It wasn’t like him and his colleagues weren’t aware of how civilians called them anyway.

“Can you tell me anything else about the suspect? Anything other than the fact that they were wearing dark clothing and a hood?”

James Peterson made a thoughtful noise at that and reached for his coffee to take a sip and probably collects his thoughts before nodding slightly. “I guess so. The person was shorter than me by at least a head and...they were pretty slim. Narrow shoulders.”

Being shorter than Peterson wasn’t exactly difficult since the guy was damn tall. He even had a few inches on Connor who was 6 feet tall himself. So the person was shorter than 6 feet and of slender built. That didn’t narrow it down to anything useful either but it was _something_ , he supposed.

“Nothing else? No glimpse of hair colour, jewellery...anything?” The detective tried and sometimes he could manage to kickstart someone’s memory like this, achieving a ‘now that you mention it’ moment but that didn’t seem to be the case this time.

“No. I only saw them from behind, the hood was already up and hiding their hair, and the person was also wearing black gloves so...there’s nothing else I noticed. I couldn’t even tell you if the person was male or female because the clothes were a little baggy.”

Connor had already figured as much from the fact that Peterson was referring to the suspect as _they_ and not with a gendered pronoun.

The young detective still asked a few more questions in the hopes of getting anything else out of the witness but even asking the man to retell his story two more times didn’t result in anything new and Connor finally thanked mister Peterson and asked him to contact the DPD in case he did remember anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We need more Markus, I know! Which is partly responsible for my decision to start a bonus Story so we can see Markus' side of things. If you haven't seen it already, I also linked the bonus story to this one so feel free to read that one as well. This here is definitely the main story but if you want to have a little more Markus until he appears more regularly on this one, [go read the bonus story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18007988/) :)
> 
> Also, I made an aesthetic/mood board for this story and posted it to Tumblr [here](http://mckvch.tumblr.com/post/183344813237) if you're interested in that kind of thing.


	6. February 16, 2028

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this chapter done with the one last week but figured I'd wait with uploading it. Today seems like a good day since I had the first part of my final exam this morning and despite a panicky moment where I got stuck with one exercise early on and a fail while printing the exam (it was all in Word and Excel), I feel okay about the end result. And I'm relieved that this is over now so...therefore you get this chapter today since I'm in a good mood *laughs*
> 
> And I'm not too bothered that people apparently don't seem to like this story too much judging by the lack of feedback so that won't stop me! Though I do wonder...is it the "dead children" tag? Or the fact that it's _slow_ slow burn with rare, short Markus' appearances so far or...?? I can only learn and do better in the future if people tell me what's bothering them :)

**February 16, 2028**

The boy’s name was Noah Miller. He was nine years old. He had been reported missing in his hometown Ann Arbor on 31 January.

Since the boy had been found two days ago, he had only woken up once the day before but he hadn’t been approachable, immediately slipping into a panic attack due to the trauma and the doctor’s had to sedate him before his condition worsened even more since the kid was already in a very critical state as it was.

Connor knew there was basically no chance the boy would be in any condition to talk or that he would even wake up properly but he ended up in the hospital anyway. _Just in case_ , the young detective told himself but in reality, he was simply grasping at straws because Noah was basically their first proper and so far only chance at getting more information on their suspect.

He was sitting in one of those terribly uncomfortable plastic chairs in the hallway, his shift had ended almost two hours ago, and typed away on his phone—ignoring Hank’s message about how he better not be sitting in the damn hospital instead of getting rest—when suddenly a commotion started from the direction of Noah’s room. Nurses and doctors rushed towards the room while the distraught looking parents were ushered out of the room and as soon as the door opened, Connor could hear the telltale, non-stop beep of the ECG.

Connor felt a pang of guilt causing his heart to constrict when his first thought was about how they wouldn’t get a lead on the suspect if the boy died now and then he felt instantly disgusted by himself because that really should be the last of his worries. There was a little boy in that room who had been through a terrible, traumatising thing and who was fighting for his life right now.

He pocketed his phone and watched as mister Miller leant against the wall opposite of the door to his son’s room, his wife slumping against him to muffle her sobs against his chest and Connor felt like the biggest asshole on the planet because his first instinct had been to worry about the damn case.

The young detective swallowed thickly and got to his feet, leaving the premises because he had no right to be here. No matter what happened next, he would hear about soon enough but he didn’t feel like he was privy to this information first hand. However this turned out, the parents had been through so much already, they didn’t need a cop lingering around the place because he had hoped to get information on the abductor.

Sometimes, the press weren’t the only vultures around.

*******

‘ _The kid’s dead_.’

Hank’s words echoed in his mind when his partner had called him about an hour ago and Connor had barely managed to swallow an “I figured” in return, even though the older man had known about his plan to go to the hospital after the end of their shift.

Now, Connor was twisting a shot glass between his fingers with a scowl on his face, watching as the dim lighting of the bar caused the whiskey to shimmer in a dark honey-golden colour. He scoffed and raised the small glass to his face, tipping the contents down his throat in one go and resisting the urge to cough at the burn before setting the glass back down on the counter with more force than strictly necessary.

“This pretty face shouldn’t wear such a sour expression,” a voice interrupted his glum thoughts after Connor had just signalled for the barkeeper to refill his shot glass and the young detective raised his eyebrows while swivelling the barstool a tad in order to look at whoever was now leaning against the counter next to him.

It was a young man with dirty blonde hair and grey eyes, objectively attractive but very much not Connor’s type, even with the charming smile and flirty twinkle in his eyes.

“Tough day?”

 _If you call a dead child and a missing lead on the killer a tough day, yeah_ , Connor’s mind supplied dryly but he didn’t say it out loud. He was already heading into tipsy territory after a few shots but he still had an intact brain-to-mouth filter, fortunately. The young detective was a total lightweight since he rarely ever drunk and basically never got drunk but sometimes, after days like today, he felt like he was allowed to wallow and be stupid like this for a change.

“You could say that,” he finally replied while turning back towards the bar where the barkeeper poured him another shot, quirking an eyebrow at his thankful nod before wandering off to another one of his patrons.

“How about I get you a proper drink? I know just the right thing to lighten your mood,” the guy offered with another bright smile while sitting down on the barstool right next to Connor, his knee lightly brushing against the detective’s thigh for a moment.

“And what constitutes as a _proper drink_ in your opinion?” Connor pointed out and then knocked back his next shot before making eye contact with the other man again, his expression almost challenging.

“You don’t seem like the type of guy for this hard stuff. How about a cocktail? You look like a sweet one.”

It definitely wasn’t the whiskey that made Connor feel slightly nauseous because what even was this bullshit talk? First of all, the guy was _way_ off with his assumption and secondly, this kind of flirting was a sure way of getting the young detective to get the fuck out of dodge.

“Clearly, you’re a terrible judge of personality because I’m very much not sweet”—he didn’t have to admit that he actually had quite the sweet tooth because that definitely wasn’t all that was to him by far—”and I’m also not stupid. Either you’re confident enough in yourself to say outright if you wanna fuck or you cut this ‘let me buy you a drink’ crap and get outta here because that’s not cute.”

Maybe he was being blunter than usual and Connor thoroughly blamed the alcohol for that but he really wasn’t in the mood to play any games and this guy also didn’t seem like the kind of person he actually wanted to have a conversation with.

“Okay, then. Let be start from the beginning: Hello, my name is Travis and I’d like to fuck you if you’re down.”

Crude. Terrible. Definitely something Connor would have shut down without hesitation on a regular day.

“Now I get why you need to buy drinks first because you suck at trying to be flirty and don’t even think about turning this into a joke.” Travis certainly seemed like the kind of guy who would turn it into a joke that Connor used the word _suck_. “I’m Connor and I would be down if, one, you stop talking and, two, I do the fucking.”

He could do crude as well and while Connor usually wasn’t interested in random one night stands with strangers, today just was one of these days that warranted multiple exceptions. Plus, maybe the guy would be a good lay and he could get some of the frustration of work out of his system that way. It was certainly a better choice than getting drunk.

Travis opened his mouth first but then snapped it shut again, the corners curving up into a smirk and then he simply nodded. Apparently, he was capable of learning quickly, that was a good sign.

Connor placed a few bills on the counter to cover his drinks before slipping off the barstool and then motioned for Travis to follow him out of here.


	7. February 19, 2028

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter took me forever and I'm not quite happy with it but least now I finally got something to upload here again. Sorry for the delay and then it's only such a short one on top of that.
> 
> Apparently, I'm currently having some sort of writer's block even though I really want to get stuff done but it doesn't seem meant to be at the moment. I'll try my best to get back on track with writing.

**February 19, 2028**  

“I’m Lieutenant Amanda Stern from the Ann Arbor police department. As you can probably guess, I’m here because of Noah Miller and everything you’ve got about the case concerning him.”

Connor could basically feel Hank instantly disliking the woman that had just shown up in front of their desks with an authoritative voice, hands placed on her hips like a mother that was scolding her child for not tidying their room.

“The body was found in our jurisdiction so we are the investigating officers, despite the kid being from your city,” Hank replied and had a completely unimpressed air about him, shuffling around papers on his desk as if he couldn't care less about the woman now glaring at him—Connor knew his partner really didn’t care about her so that was obviously the reason why he pretended to actually be doing paperwork for a change. He usually pushed those tasks off to Connor who didn’t care much either way.

“Usually, that might be the case but this victim is part of an ongoing investigation since we’ve had a similar murder to this one back in November already and we might have some sort of serial killer on our hands,” lieutenant Stern said, her voice now laced with annoyance.

Connor raised his eyebrows upon hearing that there had been a second murder victim from Ann Arbor or apparently even in Ann Arbor since they hadn’t heard about it at all, not being involved in the cases of other police departments. “It’s clearly a serial killer since this is our fourth victim.”

He didn’t mention that another child was currently missing and probably abducted by the same killer because while they were technically on the same side, he didn’t want to hand this woman too much information about _their_ case since she seemed like the kind of person that would try to get the case from them and would use everything they offered about it against them.

“So it’s already up to five dead children. How many leads on the killer do you have? How many suspects?”

Of course, she would ask about further information right away and Connor glanced at his partner with a raised eyebrow, silently asking the older man to take over because Hank was always way better at avoiding unwanted questions. Not that the young detective had much of a problem with it but he knew his rank alone would not impress lieutenant Stern very much. The chance of her listening to Hank was at least somewhat higher.

“You would have to take this up with our chief since everything concerning this sensitive case is classified information and we’re not authorised to tell you any details about it,” Hank said dryly and they all knew this was at least partly bullshit but it was obvious the lieutenant didn’t give a single fuck. Judging by the frown on lieutenant Stern’s face, she was very much aware of that fact as well.

“Believe me, I will take this up with Chief Fowler and depending on how incompetent you are, it will be fairly easy to transfer the whole case to our department,” she snarked, clearly unimpressed, and then turned on her heels to stalk away, directly heading for Fowler's office.

“So...this will get even more interesting from now on,” Connor muttered and snorted when Hank merely rolled his eyes before grabbing his cup to push it across their tables in a silent prompt for the young detective to get him new coffee.

“You know that I’m not an intern and it’s not actually my job to go on coffee runs for you, right?” Connor inquired but still reached out to take the mug since a short break was very welcome right now and this was as good an excuse to leave his desk as he was gonna get.

“I’m aware,” his partner simply replied with a shooing motion, his gaze now fixed on the screen of his computer.

The young detective huffed, rolling his eyes at the older man before getting up from his chair and heading for the break room with the cup in hand.

He wasn’t too surprised when none other than Gavin Reed was currently in the break room with one of the officers that always seemed to stick around the guy, probably aspiring to become such an asshole as well.

“Do you ever actually work?” Connor asked while walking past the table the two were stood at and he knew he didn’t have to address Gavin directly. Also, he did really wonder how Gavin managed to get anything done because he seemed to spend a lot of time in the break room or talking shit to people he didn’t like.

“I do and I actually manage to solve my cases, imagine that. Wait, no, you can’t because you suck and are incompetent,” Gavin replied right away as if he had only been waiting to make this comment and Connor turned around with an unimpressed raised eyebrow after placing the cup in the coffee maker and pressing the button for a plain black coffee.

“Wow, you thought really hard on this one, didn’t you? I get that it’s quite easy to catch a drug dealer when you literally catch them in their lab but murderers are a little more difficult than that but I guess that’s why you’re in narcotics and not homicide,” the young detective replied easily, his hip leaning against the counter while his lips tugged into the hint of a smirk.

“I heard there’s some lady from another department because the dead child is from her city. Good luck trying to hold on to the case when all you do is twiddle your thumbs until another dead kid is found.”

“How about you stop using the death of anyone as a punchline for childish comebacks, its bad taste and Fowler surely wouldn’t appreciate knowing he’s employing someone like that,” another voice interrupted before Connor could come up with something else to say.

His eyes flickered to the open doorway, spotting Jackson who quirked an eyebrow at him while walking straight towards Connor, almost crowding into his personal space as he took the by now filled mug from the coffee maker to place an empty one under the nozzle.

“Are you seriously threatening to run to the boss about this? What are you, a five-year-old?”

“Takes one to know one,” Jackson replied without missing a beat, clearly unfazed by Gavin’s poor attempt at riling him up and Connor coughed softly to conceal his snort of amusement. The man right next to him clearly didn’t miss his poor attempt at covering up the noise and glanced at the detective from the corners of his eyes, one eyebrow twitching upwards but other than that he didn’t show that he caught Connor’s reaction.

Gavin was a little red-faced by this point, clearly not happy about someone other than Connor and Hank talking back to him but he clearly was out of further stupid arguments so he simply muttered a few profanities while making his way out of the break room in a more dramatic fashion than necessary.

“That guy’s such a ray of sunshine,” Jackson commented while taking his now finished coffee, nudging the other mug towards Connor who had momentarily forgotten about the beverage he had come here for in the first place.

“Believe me, he’s usually worse,” the young detective huffed and then his lips curved into a little smirk when he remembered the way the other man had smoothly replied to Gavin’s stupid comments, easily finding a comeback and getting the other detective to basically flee the scene, “but you handled him very well.”

Markus mirrored his grin at these words and sipped his coffee, shrugging a little. “People like him never really get to me. Plus, it’s easy to rile them up by staying calm and unimpressed.”

Connor hummed in agreement and while Gavin certainly managed to get on his nerves more often than not, the young cop had a pretty decent poker face and managed to not show it too obviously. Unlike Hank who immediately started cursing their colleagues from the narcotics division whenever Gavin so much as breathed in their direction.

“I wish Hank—Lieutenant Anderson—would adopt that mindset but his explosive temperament doesn’t do well with Reed’s bullshit,” Connor said with a lopsided grin and, speaking of his partner, he should probably get the coffee back to their desks before it got too cold. He told Jackson as much and the forensic pathologist nodded with a small smile, wishing him good luck for the investigation before they both headed back to their respective workstations.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Devil in Disguise [Bonus]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18007988) by [mckvch (RaiseYourVoice)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaiseYourVoice/pseuds/mckvch)




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